


Small Bruises

by rubygirl29



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparring is occasionally more like a courtship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Bruises

**Small Bruises**

The workout room was deserted except for the two figures circling each other warily in the moonlight, and the only sounds were those of breathing, bodies in motion, the soft chuff of bare feet on the padded floor. It might have been a dance but for the wooden staffs they balanced in their hands.

John Sheppard was lean, lithe and quick. His opponent, Ronon Dex, was tall and broad-shouldered, but there was no bulk to his frame, just smooth, hard muscle that gleamed softly in the pale illumination. Sweat beaded his chest, and the heat and exertion made the hair which had escaped from his dreadlocks curl into moist tendrils.

It was those tendrils that proved Sheppard's undoing. He had been focused intently on Ronon's fighting technique, parrying his quick thrusts with the Bantos sticks, and thinking that this was the first time he'd actually come close to an even match with the Satedan. It had taken weeks, and John didn't like to lose, not even to his own teammate.

But the moonlight silvered those tendrils of Ronon's hair, spangled the beads of sweat on his broad chest, and touched his face with shadows and planes that Sheppard hadn't noticed before. It was complete, total beauty in face, body and movement.

Crack! One second was all it took for Dex to take advantage of his distraction and land a hard blow across his ribs. Sheppard collapsed to the floor, his stick spinning out of his grasp. Ronon loomed over him with his own stick poised like a sword to make a lethal blow.

“Whoa! I surrender!” Sheppard gasped, throwing his arms up. “Don't hit me!”

Ronon grinned down at him. “Sissy.”

“Sadistic bastard.” He took in a few gulps of air. “Help me up. It's the least you could do.” Sheppard held out his hand and Ronon grasped his wrist and hauled him to his feet.

“One more round?” There was an evil glint in Ronon's eyes.

“I don't think so.” Sheppard stripped off his soaking t-shirt and wiped his face with it. “Let's hit the showers.”

“Go on. I'll put the sticks away. Gotta wipe off the oil or they'll be too slick.”

Something about the way he said it made Sheppard's cock stir with interest. Crap. Just what he needed. Better make it a cold shower, and what the hell was wrong with him anyway? He left the workout room and headed to the showers, thankful that the Ancients had been so damn clean. Who'd have thought they'd anticipate that need?

His BDUs were on the bench where he'd left them, and he stepped out of his workout clothes and into a stream of water that managed to be just the right temperature. Damn, Dex had got him good.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Ronon put the sticks away, careful as any soldier was with weapons. Half of his mind was still focused on Sheppard. He'd nearly let him win just to watch the light catch those eyes that never seemed to be the same color. He found them fascinating. There was too much about Sheppard that was fascinating: his eyes, his hair, his ever-shifting expressions. The way his lean body was efficiently graceful and strong at the same time.

He respected the man as a leader, and he owed him his life. It was … what was Sheppard's word? Complicated. After seven years of living in the moment in order to stay alive, complicated had vanished from his vocabulary. It was kill or be killed. Simple.

The sweat was drying on his body, chilling him slightly. He headed to the shower before his muscles stiffened up. The water was still running, but he didn't think anything of stripping off and stepping into the shower area – until he saw Sheppard, naked, under a spray of water.

The man was sleek, made for stamina and speed. Wet, he reminded Ronon of the small water mammals that had fascinated him as a child on Sateda. They, too, were streamlined and narrow, fast. He had described them to Dr. Beckett, who had said they sounded like the otters on Earth. Ronon had put that word away to remember. Otter. Sheppard.

He stepped inside the shower. Sheppard was washing his hair, his eyes closed against the soap cascading down his face and body. Ronon found himself watching. As the suds sluiced away, he saw the bruises on Sheppard's back and ribs.

Startled by them, he grabbed Sheppard's shoulders and turned him. Sheppard's hands came up in a fighting stance, and Ronon captured them in his own. “Did I do that?” he asked.

“What?”

“Your ribs. They're black and blue.”

“You think?” He grinned crookedly. “You don't ask for any quarter, why should I?”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Ronon said, illogically. “Let me take a look.” He pressed a large, warm hand against Sheppard's bruises, felt the thin bones beneath the skin and muscle. “That hurt?”

“No.” Sheppard held Ronon's hand against his body. “It doesn't hurt. It's just a small bruise.”

Heat flared between them, and Ronon took Sheppard's shoulders in his hands. Sheppard was watching him, a bit warily, but more like he was wondering what would happen next, not real alarm. Ronon bent his head and kissed him. Soft, wet lips, a slight taste of salt, a brief moment of more intimate contact as their tongues touched. Ronon stroked his hand down Sheppard's flank -- and stopped. He could use his strength to force Sheppard against the wall and he knew he wouldn't fight. He could make that first move beyond what they had now. Instead, he stepped back. He'd left enough bruises for the night.

In silence, they finished showering. Sheppard grabbed two towels and tossed one to Ronon. “I wouldn't have minded,” he said over his shoulder, and walked away.

 **The End ******


End file.
